Fishing With Dave
by SunnyInOregon
Summary: For years, Spencer Reid internally hoped to find his Dad. He found his Father, but finding his Dad took a little longer than he expected. Notes: I'd like to send a special shout out to my beta felena1971. She does an amazing job helping me break the story, stay on course, find the typos and inconsistencies as well as prodding me to finish my wip's. Thank you, I am so happy to ha


Father's Day

Spencer pulls up behind the black SUV and shuts off the motor on his car. A moment of déjà vu slips through his mind as he takes in the trees and the cabin. The last time, he had gone to a cabin like this, he had discovered a letter from his former mentor, Gideon. Though he knows the circumstances are different this time around, he can't help the shudder that sweeps through his thin frame.

He slips out of the car, carrying and wrapped package under his arm and quietly closes the door. A faint hint of smoke trails from the chimney and curls above the roof into the trees. Spencer gingerly makes his way to the front door. He peeks through the front window. The place appears empty other than the small fire in the fireplace.

He moves to the door and knocks gently. After a few moments he knocks again; a little harder causing the door to pop open. He pushes the door open about halfway.

"Rossi? Hey it's Reid. Rossi?"

There is no answer. He steps into the room and closes the door. He cautiously makes his way through the house, noting the pictures and small knick-knacks strewn about. There is definitely a feminine touch to the place and he knows exactly who's input had been considered in the decoration of the house.

"Rossi?" he calls out again. He doesn't want the older man to be startled or to shoot first and ask questions later though that isn't a response he associates with the Italian.

He checks each room, knocking on the door prior to entry but still doesn't locate the older man. Checking in the kitchen, he finds the remains of Dave's breakfast in the sink. A twinge of panic sets in as Spencer knows Dave is a neat freak who normally wouldn't leave dirty dishes setting about.

Standing in the small dining area, he sets the gift on the table and pulls his phone out.

"Hello?"

"He's not here," Spencer says without greeting.

"Reid? What do you mean, he's not there?"

"His SUV is here but the cabin is empty. I don't know where he is," he replies letting the panic creep into his voice.

"Oh, my Junior G-Man," Penelope groans into the phone. "He's either walking the dog or he's fishing at the lake."

"Fishing?! It's not even eight am, are the fish even awake yet?"

That sets Penelope into a fit of the giggles. "Apparently, they are."

"Are you laughing at me?"

"Yes, and no. I asked the same question the first time he dragged me up there," she says.

"You've been fishing?"

She starts laughing again. "Well, that was the intention. But trust me, the fish were in no danger when I was there… I don't remember us leaving the cabin actually. We were "busy" doing other things."

He frowns and decides not to ask what the other things were. "So, what should I do?"

"Well, you have a few choices. You could wait at the cabin, in which, I suspect you're going to be there alone for a long time. And by the time he returns, he's going to be a little drunk. You could go looking for him. Or, you could come back home."

"I'm here now, and I'd really like to talk to him."

"I guess you should go looking for him then," she suggests.

"I guess so," he says heavily.

"it's going to be alright," she says encouragingly. "Go find him. Exit through the back door and follow the path to the lake. He's out there somewhere."

"You're a big help," he tells her.

"Yes, I am," she agrees. "And now, I'm going back to sleep. Good luck."

"Thanks," he replies even though the line is dead.

He puts the phone away and heads to the back door.

Spencer traipses through the tall grass, trips on a tree root and nearly falls to the ground. He catches himself and continues to tromp through the wooded area. He had never understood Gideon's fascination with the outdoors and bird watching. His mentor had tried several times to get Spencer to explore the great outdoors with him several times, but he still didn't understand the appeal. It didn't help that every other time he was in the outdoors it was a bad experience based on a case they were working on.

And now, here he was exploring the woods by himself trying to find another co-worker whom was fascinated with the great outdoors. Spencer briefly entertained the fact that this was a previous requirement for BAU profilers but then he remembered that indeed, it was not.

He was about to turn back and wait at the cabin when he tripped on another tree root and stumbled into a clearing. When he got his balance and oriented himself he saw that he was being watched by a very pissed off David Rossi. At Dave's feet lay his hunting dog, Mudgie, whom raises his head and watches Spencer.

"What the hell, Reid," Dave growls. "What are you doing here?"

Spencer clears his throat and raises his eyes to peer at the perplexed man. "Hi."

Dave's eyebrows raise. "That's all you have to say? Hi?"

"Uh… well," Spencer really couldn't figure out what to say.

Dave shakes his head and turns to his fishing rod. Spencer watches as Dave winds in the line, checks the bait and casts the line again.

Dave glares over his shoulder at him. "With as much noise as you were making, I'd be surprised if any of the fish are still here. I thought a freaking bear was coming through the area."

Spencer frowns. "Where would the fish go? This is a lake."

Dave chuckles. He glances at Spencer again and the humor leaves his face. "You're joking, right? They'd go to the other side of the damn lake!"

Spencer looks out at the lake and realizes it was pretty far to the other side. "I guess that would be a problem."

Dave sinks into the folding chair and eyes the younger man. "You think?"

Spencer stands awkwardly as Dave picks up a thermos and pours himself a cup of coffee. Dave takes a sip and looks up. "Find your tongue yet?"

"Huh?"

"Why are you here, Reid?"

He looks everywhere but at Dave. "I, uh, Garcia told me you were up here fishing and I thought I would stop by and watch. Maybe get a lesson or something."

Dave stares at him in silence until Spencer meets his gaze. "You dropped by to watch or get fishing lessons," Dave repeats.

Spencer nods, not trusting his voice.

"Have you ever been fishing?" Dave asks.

"No," Spencer admits. "But I've read up on the subject."

Dave nods slowly and takes a larger sip of his coffee. "Okay then."

He stands up. "Here's your first lesson. You see that little orange and yellow ball bobbing out there?" He points to a spot in the lake.

"Yes," Spencer replies firmly.

"Good. Now, you watch that ball and if it dips sharply under the water, pick up the rod and reel in the slack in the line. Then give a good jerk to set the hook and slowly, very slowly, reel in the fish."

"Okay," Spencer says. "I can do that."

"Good. I'll be back in about twenty minutes," Dave states as he heads up the path Spencer just stumbled out of. Mudgie rises from the ground and slips past Reid.

"You're leaving," Spencer asks nervously. He turns to watch the older man.

"I'm just going up to the house to get some more gear. You need your own pole and a chair at the very least."

"I'm okay with sitting on the ground and I don't need a pole of my own," Spencer says quickly.

Dave waves a hand in the air and continues walking.

Spencer slowly turns back to the water. He squints and looks for the ball in the water. Bobber, he thinks, the technical term is bobber. He continues to stand there watching the bobber and mentally counting the minutes.

By Reid's count, it is seventeen minutes and forty-three seconds when Dave returns. True to his word, the older man has returned with a chair and another pole as well as, a bag. Dave hands Spencer the chair and moves to his chair.

"You could have sat down," Dave points out.

"I really don't mind standing," Spencer says softly.

"Well, I mind. You standing there, scares the fish," Dave huffs.

Spencer sighs. "I didn't know fish were so sensitive."

Dave looks up from tying on a hook. "Was that sarcasm?"

Spencer blinks as he lowers himself into the chair. "No, just an observation."

Dave says nothing. He finishes tying a hook on the line. He adds a small weight and a bobber then hands the pole to Spencer. "Time to cast."

Dave shows Spencer how to hold the pole, release the line and cast the line. Dave stands to the left of Spencer as he throws his first cast. It doesn't go anywhere.

"That's okay," Dave says encouragingly. "It takes practice. Reset and try again."

Spencer does as told and tries again. The line goes a little farther. It takes several more tries before he gets a cast that goes out far enough. Dave smiles proudly, he settles into his chair again and hands the bag to Spencer.

"What's this," Spencer asks as he peeks into the bag.

"Supplies," Dave responds. "Coffee, a cup, sugar, cream, a couple of sandwiches and snacks."

Spencer looks up at him slowly. "You packed me a lunch?"

Dave shrugged. He unwrapped a cigar and lit it. "I'm not sharing my lunch."

"How long are we going to be out here?"

"However long we want to be. You have someplace to go?"

Spencer blinks. "No. No, I don't."

Several hours later, neither man had caught a single fish, but they had spent a lot of time getting to know each other.

"I don't know about you, but I'm ready to head back to the cabin," Dave says. He grabs his fishing rod and reels in the line.

Spencer follows suit with a frown. "Is it usual to not catch anything?"

"No, it's not usual. But, honestly, I wasn't really trying to catch anything today."

Spencer stops spinning in the line, he stares at Rossi. "What? Then what were we doing out here?"

"You tell me," Dave responds. He heads off to the trail, fishing pole, chair, and knapsack in hand.

Spencer scrambles to gather his gear and follow the older man.

Back at the cabin, Spencer watches as Dave carefully stores the fishing equipment in a closet just inside the back door. He leaves the folding chairs on the porch and heads inside. Dave is already at the sink rinsing out his coffee mug and the thermos. Dave takes Spencer's mug and thermos and cleans those as well while Spencer puts away the unused cream and sugar.

Both men sit at the dining table where the wrapped present that Spencer had brought in earlier still sat.

"You want to tell me what this is about," Dave asked. He gestured towards the gift.

Spencer shrugged. "I thought the gesture was rather obvious."

"Isn't this something you should be giving to your father?" Dave asked skeptically.

"No. It wasn't meant for him."

Dave leans back in his chair and pulls out a cigar. He snips off the end and lights it.

"You're going to smoke inside," Spencer asks. He wrinkles his nose at the odor.

Dave takes a large puff. "It's my house."

"Doesn't Penelope get upset?"

"Do you see the little woman anywhere," Dave asks as he waves a hand in the air.

"No. But the smell lingers."

Dave shrugs. "She doesn't come here that often. And you're avoiding telling me the real reason you're here. This place is a two-hour drive, so you didn't just stop by to watch me fish. Also, you've never been here before, which makes this a special trip. What's going on, Spencer?"

"When I was a child it was just me and my Mom taking care of each other," he began. "It wasn't until I started going to school that I learned that most families had a Mom and a Dad who took care of the child and not the way my family was. I'm not complaining. I really wouldn't change my childhood even if I could."

Spencer's eyes dart around the room not settling on any one thing.

He continues. "It wasn't until I joined the FBI that I realized family could be anything you wanted it to be. Gideon was my mentor, and in the manner in which he taught me, he became my surrogate Father. But just like my real Father, he left and stopped all contact. You were there, when I found out that William Reid not only lived in the same town as my Mother and I, he was only ten minutes away and yet he never contacted us."

"The team has become my surrogate family and each time someone leaves it breaks a part of me. When JJ went to the State Department, it was rough, but I knew that she was still just a phone call away and, in fact, we actually spent a lot more time together. But when Emily left… died, I was a complete mess. I spent hours and days mourning her loss."

Dave sits quietly in his chair, letting the younger man talk without interruption.

"I felt a huge sense of betrayal from Hotch and JJ. And especially from Emily. I couldn't believe that my family would do something like this to me. I was prepared to leave the BAU and possibly the FBI."

He stops talking and looks directly at Dave. "But then something incredible happened."

"What was that," Dave inquires softly.

"You invited us all to your house for dinner," Spencer states quietly. The two men stare at each other in silence for several seconds.

Spencer breaks the silence. "Do you know the origins of Father's Day?"

"No," Dave replies, shaking his head.

"It was originally celebrated by Catholic Europe as early as the Middle Ages and was observed on March 19th, as the feast day of Saint Joseph. Several people tried to get the holiday started in the United States in the early 20thcentury. It wasn't until 1966, when President Lyndon B Johnson issued the first presidential proclamation honoring fathers. Six years later, President Nixon made the day a permanent holiday."

"That's a great history lesson but what does it have to do with us?"

"It's become my observation over the years that there is a difference between Father and Dad," Spencer explains. "Anyone can be a Father, basically a sperm donor. But a Dad… a dad is someone special. A Dad is someone who loves without restrictions, someone who supports the good and bad decisions, someone who disciplines and praises equally."

He takes a deep breath. "That night at your house when we were cooking and eating and drinking, I realized that family is the people you care about and there are going to be good times and bad times and a lot of times in between. I had a hard time connecting with people because I thought they were eventually going to leave me."

He stops suddenly lost in thought. Dave continues to watch patiently and smoke his cigar.

"When I got here this morning and I couldn't find you at first, I thought you had run away as well. But then I spoke to Garcia and just the sound of her voice reminded me that you were not the same as my Father or Jason Gideon. Somehow, I know that you will never just up and leave me like everyone else."

"You been through so many things in your life," Spencer states baldly. "And yet, you never waver in your dedication to the team, the job and now to Penelope. It amazes me that even after being married and divorced three times, as well as the numerous relationships I can only imagine you have had over the years, you still have the capacity to try again. I've only loved and lost a few times in my life and none of them have been to the extent that you have reached."

Spencer suddenly stands and walks into the kitchen. He searches the cupboards until he locates a glass and pours himself a drink of water. He turns around and leans against the counter.

"All my life I've thought about what I would do if I actually had a Dad. The things we would talk about the experiences and dreams shared, the bonds we would forge. And it's taken longer than expected for me to realize that I had found my Dad many years ago and I didn't realize it."

He crosses back to the table and pushes the gift closer to Dave. "I'd really like it if you would open the present now."

Dave sets his cigar in the ashtray and unwraps the present. The smell of leather and old paper fills his nostrils.

Spencer speaks again. "Over the years, I've written down all the thoughts, feelings and anything else I wanted to share with my Dad. There are also several lists of things that I wanted him and I to do."

Dave holds the book in both hands as if it were to break with one wrong move. He flips through the pages slowly.

"I really don't know what to say," he states softly.

Spencer smiles wistfully. "You don't have to say anything. If you look on page 43, you'll find one of the lists I made. Look at the second thing on the list."

Dave turns to page 43, written in Spencer's unique scrawl were the words, "fishing with Dad".

"Happy Father's Day, Dave."

Dave closes the journal, places it on the table and rises to his feet. He grabs Spencer, pulling him into a tight embrace. "Thank you, son."

~Finis~


End file.
